Monday, October 24, 2011

Holding Hands

He'd been working in another country for months. It'd been a while since they last saw each other.

Oh, sure, they talked regularly on the phone. Kept each others spirits up. The relationship going. But to actually look into each others eyes. Well, that had been put on hold.

It'd been long enough. They made a date. She would fly out, solo. The two of them would spend a much needed long weekend together.

She walked through the long, twisting halls, at the airport, in his foreign country.

She saw him. Saw his smile.

She sprinted to him. Dropped her carry-on. Hugged him tight.

He returned the embrace. Not wanting to let her go.

Eventually, they walked out together, hand-in-hand, to the company car he was given to drive.

She held his hand while they drove along. To a resort in the small town where he grew up.

They talked. Talked. And talked some more.

She enjoyed the scenery. The lush green hills. He enjoyed telling her stories of his youth. Pointing out specific locations that went with specific memories.

It was the off-season so the place was perfectly uncrowded. Other visitors were scattered here and there. Just enough to breath life into the place; yet, not overbearing enough to ruin the romantic feel she hoped for.

It didn't matter that she was tired and he wanted to go straight to the room to reminisce; they decided to enjoy the beautiful day outside. They took a walk along the softest sand ever felt beach. They walked to the stretch of dunes where he used to hang out as a teen. They walked along the rickety pier. Holding hands. Watching the locals interact. Listening to their Spanish lingo. He understood their language. She didn't.

They ate at the on-site restaurant after exploring the serene setting. Then they decided to sit by the pool, with a drink in hand.

She doesn't drink. Not alcohol. Gave it up with her first pregnancy. There is no rythym or reason for her choice to continue a non-alcoholic life. She just has.

On that night, though, she wanted to have a drink with him. Like before they became parents. The weekend belonged to them.

They talked and laughed. Laughed and talked.

He drank.

She drank. Not much. But what she did consume was plenty.

Eventually, they returned to the room. To celebrate their weekend together.

About Me

My husband moved to Arkansas. For a job. I live in California. We are together; yet, living apart. We are completely committed to making our relationship thrive, throughout this new journey. Our 3 children hang on to our coat-tails, knowing they can depend on us.